Come Back to Me
by MysticVeil
Summary: He falls through the air at alarming speed, but to her it seems like eternity. He plummets to the ground before she even has time to shout. No. No, he can't be dead. She needs him, she loves him. He can't be dead. Sherlock/Clara.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hello fellow lovers of Wholock :3 So I have been shipping Clara and Sherlock like crazy lately so I needed to write a fanfic about them! I may continue this, so please leave a review if you like it! **_

Keep your eyes fixed on me," his voice is frantic now. His raised his hand, as if he's reaching for her. "Please, will you do this for me?"

"Sherlock, what are you doing!? Come down, now! Please!"

"This phone call – it's, er ... It's my note. It's what people do, don't they – leave a note?"he says, his hand beginning to tremble as he holds the phone to his ear. She stares at him, a tear rolling down her cheek.

"No. Get down now! You listen to me, Sherlock Holmes. Come down! Come back to me, please!" she sobs on the other end. Sherlock purses his lips together tightly and shakes his head before answering.

"Goodbye. I love you."

He lets the phone slip from his hand on to the roof. She still grips her phone tightly in her hand, but lowers it from her ear as she yells his name. She runs forward... Just as he raises his arms and slips off the roof. He falls through the air at alarming speed, but to her it seems like eternity. He plummets to the ground before she even has time to shout. She lets out a heart wrenching scream and falls to her knees, desperately groping the ground to make herself crawl towards the fallen man.

_No. No no no no no. He's not dead. _

She's vaguely aware that someone grabs her, trying to keep her away from Sherlock's body. She struggles and writhes against their grip, tears blurring her vision. She lurches forward and grabs his hand, but the hand that had once held hers, is now cold and still. His skin is like ice.

"No, Sherlock, no." she repeats. Someone is now pulling her away from his body, and she's too weak to fight them. She goes slack in their arms, her eyes still glued to the lifeless body.

_Please. Please come back to me. _

But he's not coming back. He's not moving. He's not waking up. He's gone. Clara clutches the arms of the stranger absentmindedly, suddenly needing support to hold herself upright. The blood soaks his ebony curls and red stains his skin. The person holding her begins to drag her away.

"Come back to me. Sherlock!" she sobs. But then his body is taken into St. Bard's and he's disappeared from her sight. Clara slips out of the arms of the stranger, but doesn't move off the ground.

_He can't be gone. _

In the distance, she hears a familiar voice. She hears quickened footsteps and eventually a pair of hands on her face. She looks up and sees the familiar eyes of John Watson. He looks frightened.

"Clara, what happened?! Are you hurt, what happened?!" he says, but his voice still sounds miles away to her. She tries to speak, but her voice refuses to surface. She has to cough several times before she can finally speak.

"He's gone. John, he's gone!"

John stares at her, pure disbelief in his eyes. He begins to shake his head, the shakes becoming quicker when he sees the blood on the sidewalk. He puts his arm around Clara's quivering shoulders, not entirely sure if it was to steady her or himself. Clara isn't screaming anymore, she's simply staring at the spot where he fell. Her eyes look haunted.

It takes almost an hour for John and Clara to pry themselves off the ground. John has to call Mycroft, but he can't make himself say the his little brother has died. But Mycroft knew. Mycroft always knows. He comes for them in a car. John and Clara are clinging to each other. He takes them to a hotel. Clara locks herself in a room, refusing to come out. John goes out on to the balcony and doesn't so much as speak to Mycroft, furious because he realized that it was because of Mycroft that Sherlock was dead.

Mycroft eventually leaves the two of them. Clara is sitting on the floor, her arms wrapper around her legs. She looks so... Broken.

_Come back. Please come back to me. _

o0o

She stands in front of his gravestone. It's black and unusually shiny. She notices how the trees are clearly visible in the reflection. She allows herself to smile. He would have noticed that too.

It's been three months since he... He... Fell.

She's never gone through so much pain in only three months. The worst are the dreams. They're so vivid. She'll dream he's standing in a room in her flat, calling her name. She'll wake up, and in those short moments when you're still half asleep and you don't know what's real and what isn't, she'll run to the room he was in, then be brutally reminded he is gone.

She stares at the slab of shiny black stone, but refuses to cry.

"Come back. Please come back to me." she says, knowing that no one can hear her.

But what she doesn't know that there is someone watching her, from the shadows of the trees. He stares at her, almost hoping she'll turn around and see him but knowing she can't. He can't reveal himself to anybody, not even her. He watches as she turns and walks away, stumbling ever so slightly. Clara, his Clara, the loud, bossy girl who taught him to love. That Clara has disappeared. The shell that remains is not her, it is far from her.

And he needs to get her back.


	2. Chapter 2

Clara walks through the busy London street, the winter winds biting at her skin. She pulls her coat tighter around her body and quickens her pace, not wanting to be out on the streets any longer than needed. She's supposed to meet Molly Hooper at a coffee shop and she's already late.

"Clara?"

The voice stops her in her tracks. She turns around slowly... And before she knows it she's in the arms of the Doctor. He holds her tightly against his chest, hiding his face in her hair. He finds it odd his friend doesn't hug him back. She's freezes and stands stock still in his arms.

"I'm so sorry, Clara." he whispers.

"How do you know?" she asks him, fighting to keep her voice steady. He holds her at arm's length, his face grave. She moves back ever so slightly, but just enough for his hands to slip off her shoulders.

"I was visiting Mrs. Hudson. She and I are friends, you know. She knows my favorite tea. But I went to see her and she told me. I am so sorry." he whispers.

"It's ok, Doctor." She says. She's lying. Of course she's lying.

The Doctor is frowning. He puts his arm around her, but she tenses at his touch. She doesn't mean to... But she's barely been able to touch anyone since Sherlock's fall. The Doctor quickly pulls his arm away, tearing his eyes away from the once so lively girl.

"How's John?" he asks.

"He's... Terrible. He stares at nothing for hours on end. He won't go back to the flat,"she responds. But then she inhales sharply and her fists clench into balls and her hands start trembling. "Why did he do this, Doctor?! How could he leave us!?" she shouts, anger making her voice bitter.

"Clara, you know it wasn't his fault-"

"He's the one who jumped! He left us, Doctor! Why did he leave us? Why did he leave me?" she chokes out. She grew wild and the Doctor grabs her arms to control her.

"Clara! Please just listen to yourself! Listen to what you're saying!" he shouts at her. She's gripping his forearms so tightly that her knuckles are white.

"Please bring him back to me! Please!" she cries and then her knees buckle and she sinks to the ground, bringing the Doctor with her. He feels helpless. It's not a feeling he familiar with. He wraps his arms around the quivering woman, pulling her close.

"Can you bring him back?" she cries into his chest.

"I can't. You know I can't. I'm so sorry, Clara." he whispers, kissing the top of her head. A few people have stopped and asked if they need help, but the Doctor simply waves them away. Inwardly, he is calling himself every bad name in the book, and he's read a lot of books.

Because he has a secret. A secret that's tearing him apart.

Eventually, Clara regains her composure and leaves him alone on the London street, after a swift kiss on the cheek. He tires to hug her again, but she pretends she doesn't see his arms and walks away. He lets her go on pretending. He watches her small frame until she is nothing more than a small red dot and then she's gone. He turns around, his face grim. He opens his mouth, as if to say something to an invisible friend, but quickly closes it again. He starts his walk back to the Tardis, but he takes his time. When he eventually spots his beautiful blue box, he hesitates before pushing the door open. And standing at the console, still in his black coat and the familiar blue scarf, is Sherlock Holmes. His hands are white from gripping the edge of the console. He's staring at nothing. His eyes are glistening.

"Tell her you're alive." the Doctor says softly.

"I can't. She could get hurt." Sherlock responds, using the same soft tone, albeit his deep voice.

"You'll kill her. She'll waste away, wither into something unrecognizable... Because of you." the Doctor snaps, his voice growing harsher.

"She's strong. She can get through this. She'll forget me." Sherlock responds, still staring at the nothingness.

"No she won't! She will never forget you! Want to know why?! Because you changed her! You changed the way she sees the world. You challenged her, made her fight, made her stronger. But she loved it. She loved you, more than anything on the world. And you loved her. She made you a better person. She made you learn to love. And how are you repaying her? You're allowing her to waste away into nothing! Do you care for her at all?! I regret the day you ever even laid eyes on her. She deserves so much better than you!" the Doctor shouts, his voice like fire. Sherlock slams his fist down, so harshly that the Doctor hears a crack. The Tardis whines in protest.

"Don't you think I haven't thought of that! I love her, Doctor! Don't you ever think that I don't care for her!" Sherlock roars at the alien. The Doctor flinched, suddenly afraid of the tall, furious man. But he stands straight and goes to Sherlock, who is trembling with anger. The Doctor pushes away his fear and puts his hand on Sherlock's shoulder, staring him straight in the eyes.

"Then go to her. Tell her you're alive. Please." he whispers. Sherlock stops shaking and slumps against the console, gripping it tightly to keep himself upright.

"I can't put her in danger, Doctor. Moriarty's men might still kill her if they know I'm alive. I couldn't live with myself if I hurt her." he whispers. The Doctor's hand slips from Sherlock's shoulder, but he doesn't drop his gaze. The next words that comes out of his mouth causes Sherlock's blood to run with ice.

"But you already have."


	3. Chapter 3

It was a grueling eleven months before Sherlock was finally able to return to Clara. Of course, to Sherlock, it wasn't that long. He travelled with the Doctor and took care of the remainders of Moriarty's men. There were only two of them. He didn't kill them, the Doctor wouldn't allow him to do that. But those mens were pure evil, even the Doctor came to terms with that. So they took them on the Tardis and the Doctor trapped them, didn't kill them, but trapped them so they could never kill another person. He used methods that he's used before. One was trapped in unbreakable chains forged in the heart of a dwarf star. And then the other was tricked into the event horizon of a collapsing galaxy. They would live... Perhaps forever. They can spend that time reflecting on the evil deeds they have committed.

And Sherlock can finally go home.

The Tardis reappears on a street, two blocks away from Clara's small house. Sherlock goes to the door, but hesitates his hand hovering against the door.

"Are you sure they're ready?" he asks the Doctor.

"You've been gone for almost two years. Clara hasn't... Hasn't moved on. And you haven't either. You don't sleep. You have nightmares. Sherlock, go back to her now." the Doctor says. Sherlock nods and pushes the door open and walks out in to the cold air, soft flakes of snow just beginning to fall down through the air.

"Thank you." he says to the Doctor. He smiles in return.

Sherlock closes the door and breathes in the crisp London air. It's dark out, perhaps eleven o'clock. Sherlock takes a deep breath, trying to calm his buzzing mind. He's seeing Clara today... After two years for her. Will she still want him? Will she hate him?

The possibilities are endless. But he can't dwell on them. He needs to see her, he's missed her... A lot. He loves her more than he'll ever like to admit.

He begins his walk to Clara's home, walking quickly and easily with his long legs. It doesn't take too long to arrive at her home. He walks up the door and stands there for a moment, but then forces his hand to move and knock against the wood. He hears a shuffle and eventually she comes to the door. The moment she lays her eyes on him, she lets out a small cry and stumbles backwards, tripping over a shoe and falling on to her back. Sherlock rushes to her and drops to his knees in front of her. He reaches for her, but she holds her hand out and crawls away from him.

"You're not real." she says, disbelief clouding her hazel eyes.

"Clara, it's me. It's Sherlock." he tells her, putting his hands on either side of her face.

"You fell. You died! I saw you! You died!" she screams at him. Sherlock shakes his head and puts his hand behind her back and lifts her up. She's lost weight, seven and a half pounds. Her cheeks are sunken in. Her hair has grown longer, it's past her shoulders. It falls down in messy chestnut curls down her back. Sherlock puts his hand on her face, his other one still propping her upwards. She stares at him, breathing quickly. She reaches up with a trembling hand and touches his face, feeling the shape of his cheekbones, eyes and lips.

"Is it really you?" she asks with a shaky voice.

"Yes. I promise." he whispers.

"Prove it." she says sternly, her eyes growing stormy.

"Your name is Clara. Your mother was Ellie, but she passed away when you were a young adult. You still have some of her jewelry, one of them being a gold necklace with a small fake ruby on it. You gave it to her when you were five. You hate the movie King Kong because it makes you sad that the ape dies. You travelled with the Doctor, until you found me. I was chasing a criminal named Luke Stoddard while you were coming out from behind a corner and crashed into me. You had gotten separated from the Doctor so you stayed with me. Then Stoddard started shooting. He aimed for you, but I stepped in front. I almost died, but you pulled me out of it. Your voice was the only thing I could hear and it kept me awake. You saved my life that day. And after that you stayed with here, with me. You would come over at night and make me watch movies with you. You always cry when you watch Titanic because Jack dies. You like your tea without too much milk and four spoonfuls of sugar. You like looking up at the stars because it reminds you of your travels with the Doctor and your mother, who also liked to do it. John has a tendency to call you Clary. When we're alone we stay up talking until the sun is in the sky. We talk about nothing in particular and you hate it when I don't eat and you get Mrs .Hudson on my case too. You like to have tea with her on Sunday mornings," he says. Clara is staring at him, her mouth hanging open. "And you're the only one who calls me Shirly." he finishes.

Clara closes her mouth at the end of his speech. She then throws herself into his arms. He holds her tightly, nestling his face into the crook of her neck. But then Clara tears herself away from him, and slaps him so hard his head whips to the side.

"That's for leaving me," she says harshly. But then she pulls him close and smashes her lips against his. "And that's for coming back to me." she whispers when she pulls away. Sherlock cocks his eyebrow at her.

"You confuse me." he whispers. She smirks at him.

"Don't you think that I'll forgive you easily. You left me for two years, Sherlock." she tells him.

"I did it to protect you. I had to, Clara. I couldn't have you hurt because of me." he tells her. He casts his eye down, unwilling to look at her sunken face. She reaches forward and takes his hand in hers and a small shiver runs up her spine. His hand is warm... Unlike the last time she grabbed it, which was the day he had fallen. His skin was like holding ice then. But not now, it's warm.

"Promise me something, Sherlock Holmes." she whispers.

"Anything," he answers immediately.

"Don't ever leave me again." she says. Sherlock pulls her close and leans down until his lips are pressed against her ear.

"I promise." he whispers. Clara grins and nestles into his body. He's back, thank God he's back.

"I was watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas. And you have to watch it with me. But make me tea first." she orders. Sherlock nods and goes to the kitchen. The only person who can ever order him is Clara Oswald. When he has the tea made, with a dash of milk and four spoonfuls of sugar. He sits beside her and raises his eyebrow when he noticed the television is switched off. Clara has her face in her hands. Sherlock puts the tea down and hastily pulls her close and until she's pressed against her body. Instead of embracing him back... She stiffens. Even now, being touched by another human being is difficult for her. For the past two years, she's barely touched anyone. Not even so much as a handshake.

"They swore to me you were dead. Even Mycroft. How did you survive?" she asks.

"The Doctor." he admits. Clara bites her tongue to keep back her angry response. She soon tastes blood in her mouth. Sherlock quickly starts talking again.

"We did it to protect you."

"But why didn't you just take me with you?" she asks. The sadness in her voice is enough to break his stoney heart.

"If you had gone missing they would have noticed... I'm sorry Clara. This was the only way to keep you safe." he tells her.

"Is it over now?" she asks.

"No, it will never be completely over for me. You know people will hate me. They'll still think I'm a fake and some will never trust me again. But I have you, so what the rest of the world thinks of me is no matter." he tells her.

Clara smiles at him and eventually nestles into his chest. She still doesn't completely embrace him as she once did. It will be a while until she does that again. He hurt her and she still is afraid to completely love and trust him again. It will take time, but she will do it. She doesn't want to go back to a life without Sherlock. She missed the snarky responses, the movie dates, the way he would kiss her. But he's back. Time will heal the pain they've both gone through. The world might resent Sherlock Holmes, but she won't let them hurt him. And he won't ever let anyone hurt her.

Clara smiles and rests her head against his shoulder. Yes, she may be scared to trust him. But she cannot deny one simple fact;

He finally came back to her.

_**Hello there! So this is it for this story. I hope you've enjoyed it! If you could leave a review that would be swell :)**_


End file.
